Journal Entries of a Young, Confused Hufflepuff
by Dyskonnect-Ed
Summary: Yeah, another Harry Potter fanfiction where a girl writes in her journal. It's funny, though. I trust you that much.


Ed's Beginning note: Yeah, here it is. My first fanfiction work. Not the best, I must say. But I just started again, so give me a little time to get back into the groove. I'm making two more - and BETTER - ones. So... yeah.

Yup.

Disclaimer: I own none of this. Except my own character. OOC much?

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**JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER: 248** (I've been writing since I was eleven, okay?!) 

So… Today is just a regular day, right? Wrongo!

See, I'm sitting in the middle of Potions class, with Severus the Snake (I still loves him, though) is hanging over my shoulder, watching my every move. Now, this usually occurs and usually I'm okay, but this time he was standing pretty close, close enough for me to smell his cologne. My first thought was, he wears cologne?! Who's he trying to impress? But, as I thought this, my hand slipped as I added - or at least tried to add - a drop of something or another. Well, my hand was all shaky, and I added - at least - the WHOLE BOTTLE.

Well, the potion goes to crap, and is all sludgy and stuff. I mean, it looked like brownie mix. This was the worst time EVER to make a mistake in potions class. Snape decided it was unfixable, and there was absolutely no time to try brewing a new one, so he gave me two options: A, take a zero; or B, come back at eight o'clock this evening to finish brewing a new one. Which would totally take up my leisure time. I mean, what the hell? Doesn't HE have any leisure time? I'd consider it a no, because, well, our class is a bunch of retards that needs detention at least every two nights to learn to shut their mouths. But, still! Oh, well.

Snape continued over to his desk to try logging in that I was taking a zero for the day, when I raised my hand and said, "Never mind, sir. I'll come in at eight"

What was I complaining about again? He gave me this very sexy smirk. Oh, yeah.

After dinner - at about five - I hurried to the Hufflepuff common room, almost nearly forgetting where it was. I mean, what was I, a first year? No, I've been here for six years, but it doesn't stop me from being a complete imbecile. I once followed - accidentally - a pack of Gryffindors to their own tower, and only when I tried entering their common room did the redhead boy turn around and ask me what I was doing. I went, "Meep!" And hurried away. It was seriously embarrassing. And only last year!

That's not the worst of it, though. Once I was running to get to class - Potions, no doubt - and I turned a corner, only to nearly fly out of the window! Well, I did, but I was able to grab on for dear life of the window pane. I was screaming horribly, as I was coming from the uppermost tower with Trelawney, and I was four stories up. Thankfully, Remus Lupin - our terribly sexy Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - was able to grab me. That's not really the worst part of this story. I had grabbed onto his shirt when he pulled me up around my waist, and I slipped and tore it apart. What was underneath was the most beautiful - but horribly scarred - piece of artwork ever. I even began crying when I saw it, and he thought I was crying about the near-fall. He even hugged me after repairing his shirt, and led me to Potions to tell Snape what had happened.

That pair is one any gay-fanatic would die to see kiss. Oh, hells yes.

Anyway, now I was in the common room, thankfully after all of this reminiscing I was able to get there without getting lost. Yuppers. I began my homework after plopping onto the floor near the fire, the good armchairs taken. My work scattered on a convenient coffee table, I was able to get done two fourteen inches long papers for Transfiguration and DADA, and started on my classification and description of four creatures I'd learned about in Care of Magical Creatures. Yeah, I was a fast worker, and a pretty smart lady, but the stupid hat said I was way too clumsy to be placed in Ravenclaw, and too much of a little bitch to be put in Gryffindor. And for the other house he just said, "Slytherin would eat you alive." (Well, I assume it's a "he". But I don't think hats can have genders.) It was really rude, though, because just that day on the train, I tripped Malfoy - a little blonde prick - for calling this sweet girl a Mudblood. It was a disgusting name to call her. I tripped him. The end. She never thanked me, though. She was too busy in the compartment. Yeah, I overheard, and tripped him on his way out. Whatever.

Anyway, I was halfway through my Magical Creatures when my watch tinged. Oh, crap. It was eight o'clock. (I knew this, because my watch was enchanted to make a cute little tune on the hour.) As I finished bumping my head to the tune, I hurriedly threw my things into my bag, and nearly sprinted out, forgetting to open the door, and having to run back for my Potion's book.  
I hurried as fast as I could, nearly getting yelled at by Filch if he hadn't caught the newly returned Weasley twins with dungbombs. I assume they were trying to place them in various suits of armor, to explode at a certain time, but only because I heard such a small explosion from behind and heard Filch screaming in revolt.

I still had to hurry, though.

Sliding down the banister of the main staircase thing, I managed to get through the whole thing, without really knowing how I was going to stop at the end. Luckily, I didn't have time to think of the horrors of it as I completely flew off, landing on something soft - but hard - that made a loud "Oof."

I rolled off of Snape quickly, giving my hand to help him up even though I knew my pitiful strength couldn't lift a grown man. As he rubbed his bum he looked at me and said, sourly, "You're too much trouble for a Hufflepuff." I almost laughed, if he didn't look so miserable.

"I'm sorry, sir." I said, looking my most apologetic.

I think the puppy dog eyes worked, because he merely stated, "I hope you never become an Auror." He gestured for me to follow him back to the dungeons, asking why I was late.

"I got caught up in homework," I said, blushing. I was one of the only Hufflepuffs to do it so early, most of them procrastinating half of their nights away.

Snape snorted. "A likely story." He said, leading me into his private office. A small cauldron was already set up, and he took my potions book, opening it to a different page then it was earlier.

"You will be doing this. It's a pasty substance that's used on scars. Madame Pomfrey said she ran out last night. Begin." I set to the task quickly, chopping up various things, and juicing other various things.

After an hour and a half of extra hard work, Snape finally appeared behind me once again. Thankfully I was done by this time, by which he noticed when I had started cleaning up my workspace - a small table in the corner of his office, facing away from his desk so I couldn't stare at him.

"I think we should test this," he said, his gaze sweeping over my arms. Yes, I had been a cutter, just last year. Stupid things happened and I had seriously horrible anger issues, but I was too damned polite to take it out on anything. I had cut, a lot, and it was stupid, and I keep forgetting about the scars and rolling up my stupid grey and black striped sweater sleeves so I wouldn't get them in the stupid potion.

Before I could try pulling down my sleeves, saying, "I don't have any scars!" he grabbed my arm, forcing it wrist up. (Emo tear.) "I… It was from the cat!" I said, trying to say anything possible. A few on my upper arms were from my cats, yes, but none of the horizontal ones even seemed plausible.

He merely sneered, as though wondering how stupid of a person someone had to be to do something like this. He took a small rag thing from his pocket - I think it was his handkerchief, but it looked relatively new or unused - and dipped it in the potion. Shaking the excess, I turned my head from the shame of my stupidness in scars, and felt a light, cooling sensation on my arm. Turning back, I saw my arm drizzled with the potion, and, miraculously, it filled in the scars and made them the same skin color as my arm - no longer the light, scar tissue they were for so long. They disappeared completely.

And then, suddenly, out of NOWHERE, I break down crying! I land on my knees in front of the man - who was still holding onto my hand - and I was crying my heart out for being so stupid. Then I felt even stupider for crying about my stupidness, and then I cried even harder! For all of this stupidness, I hit myself in the head, once, and then hit my leg, yelling, "Stop it, stupid! Stop!"

Well, I wasn't the only one yelling stop, and I was suddenly taken by my shoulders, and shaken. Eyes wide, I looked up to see Snape nearly level with me, eyes wide as though he didn't know what to do with a crying girl. Without thinking, I had thrown my arms around his shoulders, and cried into his chest, feeling his timid hands touching my back as though trying to comfort me. I noticed they stayed up near my shoulder blades, as though afraid of sexually abusing me. (Not like I'd care otherwise, but it's the thought that counts, right)

"You stupid, stupid girl," he berated me, and I looked up, still sniffling. He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket and let me sniffle into it. Helping me to my feet, he never said another word except, "It's perfect. Madame Pomfrey will be happy. Start bottling it into these flasks." He gave me a rack of flasks, and I sat it on the table, hands shaking. Attempting to ladle it into the flasks wasn't an easy task with such shaky hands, so, as I spilled the potion a third time and mentally cursed at myself, I felt the flask and ladle taken from my hand. "You can just go," he said, beginning the simple task.

"Are… Are you sure you don't want help grading…?" I began, but he interrupted me.

"No, that will be for detention tomorrow night. Here, same time." I left the office, wondering why he'd make such an easy task for a detention. What I was thankful for, however, was that he never asked me how I got these scars, and I stared on my other arm as I walked to Hufflepuff common room.

And now, I bid you good night, dear Journal. (Whom I've just now named _Kitteh_.)

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Ed's Note: Yeah, that was... the gayest FanFiction EVER written.

So, I probably won't continue this for very long. But, give me reasons to give you at least the rest of what I've written.


End file.
